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Half-Empty Life

Yanique winked at me and said, “This way Elvis can give an eye out for us.”

“You can’t be serious?”

She nodded in the affirmative.

“Why?” I pressed for clarity.

“We’re not safe out here,” she explained and pressed my hand.

“What do we do now?” I whispered to her.

“We just wait for our escort.”

What could go wrong? I pondered.

And the fear of how vulnerable we were settled for a brief moment.

But was soon allayed when I saw the group of women standing at the corner.

Safety in numbers my mind interpreted it for me.

This was all new to me, but I was all set for my first date with a married, sex-starved, middle-aged pervert by the name of David Williams. The plan was to pick me up on Georges's Lane. This way no one could identify him. Elvis my pimp made all the arrangements.

The half a dozen women who were hanging about the street corner had taken up their position, and shamelessly paraded their partially naked bodies. And judging by their laughter they are either telling lewd jokes or embarrassing rumors about somebody’s life. I felt a little overwhelmed by all the noise and people.